Discarded
by Isabelle Ashe
Summary: Well, you're in love with my best friend, and I'm in love with yours, and they're both sitting back in the infirmary with the people they'd rather be with." DanJan and SamJack


Title: Discarded

Author: Isabelle Ashe 

Rating: PG

Category: angst, Daniel/Janet, Sam/Jack, Jack and Janet friendship

Spoilers: Chimera (episode tag), little bit for Grace

Summary: "Well, you're in love with my best friend, and I'm in love with yours, and they're both sitting back in the infirmary with the people they'd rather be with."

Archive: wherever, but please let me know

Disclaimer: If they were mine, Chimera would NOT have happened!

Author's Notes: I really hated almost everything about Chimera (except that scene where Daniel is lifting weights—yum!), so I thought I would have a couple of figurative drinks with a couple of people who surely feel the same way. Warning to Sam/Jack and/or Dan/Jan shippers: this is not an episode fix-it; there is nothing remotely fluffy or heartening here.

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chimera: an illusion or fabrication of the mind; esp. an unrealizable dream_

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Jack O'Neill was relieved to be off base, but he couldn't bring himself to go home. He drove away from Cheyenne Mountain with no real plan, but soon found his truck pulling into the parking lot of the bar that he and other SGC personnel sometimes frequented. He considered going somewhere else—he didn't really feel like running into half the SGC tonight—but the temptation of alcohol outweighed the desire to go elsewhere.

He wanted Jack Daniels, but he knew he would never drink just one shot, and he did have to drive home and work tomorrow morning. He ordered a Bud instead, figuring that he could add "wrong drink" to his list of annoyances, right there under "cops named Pete." He took his beer and headed toward the darkest corner of the bar, and he was halfway across the room before he registered the small figure seated in the booth he was aiming for. He started to groan and redirect his steps when he recognized the person in the booth. Although Janet Fraiser was seldom top on his list of people to hang out with, at least one on one, tonight he knew she was the only person whose company he could tolerate. She didn't look like she particularly wanted company, but Jack approached her anyway.

"Hey, Doc." She looked up quickly from her vodka, startled at his sudden approach but apparently not surprised to see him.

"Colonel."

"Mind if I join you?" She hesitated, then shrugged and gestured to the empty bench across from her. Jack sat and took a long swallow of beer. "I didn't know you were off," he commented.

"Oddly enough, I actually left when I got off. I don't always feel compelled to work round the clock when I don't have to." Her voice was even, controlled, and almost emotionless; she finished by draining the rest of her vodka. She raised the glass to attract the attention of the waiter, who brought them both another round.

"So," began Jack as the silence grew awkward, "how's Cassie?" Janet rolled her eyes.

"She's fine, but I know you didn't come over here to talk about her." Jack conceded the point with a nod.

"So what are we going to talk about?"

"Well, you're in love with my best friend, and I'm in love with yours, and they're both sitting back in the infirmary with the people they'd rather be with."

"Uh, yeah, I guess we could talk about that." If Janet was going to be so forthright, he wondered if he might not have been better off with Teal'c. Despite her statement, the doctor showed no signs of initiating the conversation. Jack figured if he started on Daniel and Janet, he might not have to think about Sam and himself. "You know," he offered hesitantly, "Daniel's just trying to atone for not saving Shar'e. I mean, I don't think he really has feelings for Sarah anymore—I mean, not like that." He trailed off awkwardly. Janet's expression was unreadable. She laughed softly, a sad and bitter sound.

"I guess I was too boring—heaven forbid he should have a girlfriend who hasn't been taken over by a Goa'uld."

"Janet—"

"I know he's your best friend, Jack, and God knows I love him in spite of my better judgment, but the man has serious issues. I thought he was working through them, and I thought," her voice quavered slightly, "I thought he even wanted me to help him. But with Daniel Jackson, it's pretty hard to measure up to the ex-girlfriend-saved-from-the-Goa'uld." She stared into her glass, twirling the ice around with the stir stick.

"He cares about you, Janet," Jack answered forcefully. "He's cared about you for years; he hadn't even thought about Sarah until those dreams started. Really, we can blame the whole thing on Osiris." Janet gave another of her heartbreaking laughs.

"The goddamned Goa'uld—the root of all our problems."

Jack hesitated for a moment, and before he could stop himself, he had answered, "Not quite all of them." Janet looked at him sympathetically and raised her glass half-heartedly.

"To the Goa'uld and the Air Force, co-conspirators in the obliteration of our respective love lives." Jack clinked his bottle against the edge of her glass and took a swig of his beer, but he couldn't manage even a faint smile after the toast.

"I know I should be happy for her. I'm trying to be happy for her, I really am. And I want her to be happy." He paused and thunked his bottle down on the table with frustrated force. "But what can she possibly see in some dumb cop called Pete? From what I can tell, he's nothing like as smart as Carter. I mean, the guy doesn't have enough sense to stay out of where he obviously doesn't belong, almost getting himself and Carter killed, not to mention nearly screwing up our stakeout. Jesus, can't the guy do as he's told?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he sounds a little like this dumb colonel called Jack that I know." Janet raised an eyebrow in challenge. Jack just stared at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he finally sputtered.

"I don't know," admitted Janet. "I really haven't talked to her about it. But I suspect Pete may be a substitute for the person she really wants."

"And can't have," he finished. "You know, Janet, for a long time I could convince myself it was worth it—what we do, SG-1, all that. But I don't know if it is anymore. When she was stuck on the Prometheus, I told myself that if she got back and was okay, I'd act. I'd retire, or get myself transferred out of her chain of command, or something. But I was afraid to screw up what we have; now I guess it's too late anyway. At least I get to see her every day." It didn't seem like much of a consolation.

"And at least you have a real external excuse for not being together. These last few months, I thought that Daniel and I might really make it. I wanted to take a chance on him—to take a chance on being happy. I thought he wanted it, too." Janet had long since finished her drink, but she continued to stare into the glass and aimlessly twirl the ice around. After a few moments of silence she spoke again. "Maybe our main qualification was the fact that we stayed alive." Her tone was flat and despondent. "You've been with Sam for seven years and didn't die—or never permanently, anyway. I never needed Daniel to save me from a Goa'uld. But now that we're not the only ones to manage it, I guess just staying alive isn't enough."

They had ignored the bartender's last call and the gradual emptying of the bar. Now the staff were sweeping the floor and casting annoyed looks in their direction.

"We should probably get out of here," Janet said, reaching in her bag for her wallet. Jack nodded in agreement, stood up, and dropped some money on the table.

"Are you okay to drive?" he asked as they left the air-conditioned bar for the hot summer evening.

"Yeah, I only had two, and I stopped a while ago. You?"

"Yeah sure you becha," Jack answered glumly as he unlocked his truck. "G'night, Doc."

"Goodnight, Colonel."

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The End 


End file.
